


He’s a Lavender Bouquet

by flowerpotz01



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s)-they're 18, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Oblivious Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie helps tho dw, Sad Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff towards the end i don't feel bad, fuck that clown, i hate how these are disorganized, it's fine i guess, oh and
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27893482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerpotz01/pseuds/flowerpotz01
Summary: Eddie has always been clingy when it came to Richie, even when they would argue. He still remembers when Eddie squeezed his scrawny ass into the hammock with him because he didn’t respect the ten minutes each rule. But when the flailing of scrawny limbs and bickering stopped, their legs ended up on top of each other like they usually do, fitting like a puzzle. He remembers how the rays of sunshine that bled through the wood of the clubhouse made Eddie look like he was glowing. And when his eyes flicked up to look at him, the sun made his eyes look like beautiful honey brown kaleidoscopes.This flashes into his mind as he looks into Eddie’s eyes now, cradling his head in his hands. Except the frantic eyes he’s looking into now look foreign to him; unrecognizable.--Or, Eddie is having another rough night when Richie stops by, and everything changes.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Reddie - Relationship, Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak
Comments: 3
Kudos: 84





	He’s a Lavender Bouquet

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Pajama Pants," by Cavetown 
> 
> [Pajama Pants](https://open.spotify.com/track/7aU0FxwwsAwmQ8uGFYLIlu)

_It was another one of those nights for Eddie._

He’s not really sure when it started. When he began to feel like the world had caved in on him. 

Maybe it was when he found out about his mom manipulating and pumping his body with placebos. Maybe it was when Henry Bowers made it his life’s mission to make his life a living hell until he was locked up for murdering his father. Maybe it was the help of all of Derry pushing him deeper and deeper in the closet until it became the only place he felt safe. 

Maybe it was when he finally admitted to himself that he was in love with his best friend, Richie. And having to swallow the hard pill that Richie may not feel the same way. 

There could be a number of other reasons. Or maybe it’s none of those things and he’s just going through that hard part of life that almost every teenager goes through. I mean, he’s eighteen so it would make sense. But either way he tried to look at it, he knows that this isn’t how it's supposed to be. 

Sometimes it gets to be too draining to be in the same house as his mother. She tries everything she can to _protect_ him and to _keep him from getting hurt_ when really that’s all she does. He’s hurting so much and he feels like he can’t go anywhere to get away from what his mother has done to him all of his life. He just can’t escape her tight grip on him. 

He looks forward to leaving in a few months. Sunny California and UCLA that holds his track scholarship calling his name. The best part? Richie’s going with him. They’re leaving Derry behind together even though Richie’s not going to school. He had been worried at first, but of course, Richie was quick to reassure him. 

_“Don’t worry, Eds. I know it won’t be easy, but Went and Mags are gonna help me get on my feet. And what’s better than leaving this shithole with my best friend?”_ Richie wraps his arm around his neck, pulling him close and making the butterflies that live in Eddies belly go crazy. _“It’s you and me, Spaghetti. We’ve got this.”_

And like the lovesick idiot he is, Eddie easily believed him. Richie just always makes it so easy for him to believe him and leaving no room for him to doubt or worry anymore. Especially with things like moving across the goddamn country with your best friend who doesn’t have a plan to keep himself from being homeless. It’s all good, though. _Everything’s fine, don’t worry, Eds._

God, he’s so annoying.

Richie had actually called earlier. Asking if he wanted to come over to watch movies and to maybe sleep over. _It’s Friday night, so why not?_ He thought to himself, thinking that it was probably good to get out of the gooey black paint of his mind and his creaky, old childhood home that felt more like that creepy house on Neibolt street. 

— The house on Neibolt always creeped him out whenever he has to walk past it to get home. His skin prickling in goosebumps out of fear he doesn’t understand. And sometimes it feels like it calls out to him. Sometimes he can’t help but stop and look, transfixed on how the old, broken down home somehow looks like a haunting catortion of a distorted face. Like it could eat him at any moment.

That’s kind of what his own home feels like. —

But he ended up saying no, not wanting his best friend to see him like this. 

Richie is Eddie’s safe haven. He’s who he goes to when he needs to feel safe under the warmth of his arm and his bittersweet aroma of vanilla and cigarettes. And that’s what he usually does, but only when he can hide his black moods with the facade of witty, quick comebacks and giggles when Richie actually _does_ end up making him laugh and feel all bubbly inside. He doesn’t think he can hide it tonight, though, no matter how much he’s itching to be in Richie’s bubble of safety.

Eddie doesn’t let the losers see him like this, either. He’s been backing out of invites to hang out at the clubhouse or Bill’s saying he’s busy. It’s gotten to where they don’t question it anymore but let him know that they’re there for him. It doesn’t mean that the losers don’t care. If anything, they care about him more than anyone; _love_ him more than anything. But it’s the way that they think they’re protecting him when really it’s _him_ who’s protecting _them._ Well, at least he thinks he is; hoping.

But when Eddie’s walking in the opposite direction of the losers, he can sometimes feel someone’s eyes on him. He somehow knows it’s Richies. He always gets a weird tingle and goosebumps trailing down his back whenever he feels his eyes on him. Eddie will sometimes look back, like he did today after school, and will see Richie staring at him with something he can’t read. Eddie had ended up jogging back over to hug him, and feeling Richie’s arms around him only brought him comfort. But it went away as quick as it came when he pulled away. Immediately missing the warmth of Richie and said he’d see him later without looking back. 

Eddie’s always quick to reassure Richie because he knows he can read him like a book. Nights of him whispering, “Eddie are you okay”s and “You know you can tell me anything”s between them when Eddie lets his viel slip. His only response is just to snuggle closer into Richie’s side and sighs out, “Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

Richies answer always delays, but he’ll only respond by squeezing his shoulder and a quiet, “Okay.” And that’s how they fall asleep. 

But he’s not okay. Half the time he isn’t, but Richie doesn’t need to know that. 

_He’s okay_ he thinks to himself as he lays down on his side, bringing his knees up to curl in on himself. Silent, salty tears sliding down his cheeks and bleeding through his sweatshirt sleeve that’s really Richies. He pulls his sweatshirt tighter around his body, thinking maybe if he did, it would be the same as Richie being there with him; that Richie’s the one holding him. He turns his face into his pillow, and that’s the last thing he remembers before falling asleep.

  
  


It’s not until 1am when a rattling knock at his window startles him awake. His eyes stung, probably red and swollen from crying, and still in the same fetal position he’s been in for hours. He rubs at his eyes which only just made his eyes sting more. 

He knows it’s Richie, he’s the only one who visits at this hour. 

Eddie doesn’t get up right away, hoping that Richie will figure that he’s asleep and go back home. But he knows Richie, and he knows that he’s not going to stop _knock-knock-_ fucking- _knocking_ until he opens the window. Richie was never the one to understand nonverbal cues. 

His body aches as he walks to his window with raw eyes, rubbing at them again when he pulls his curtain aside. And there’s Richie and his black curls on the other side, the moonlight causing them to look like a beautiful halo. His heart stutters a bit at how beautiful he really is.

Richie’s beaming at him with bright eyes, but they falter when he sees Eddies flushed face and swollen, red eyes. The sadness that lives in the chocolate eyes he’s not used to seeing. He instantly becomes worried and places his large hand on the cold window, making it rattle with force. Eddie can’t help but place his palm there, too, from the other side and can’t help noticing a tiny spark when he did.

Richie looks down at their palms before looking back into his eyes. “Eddie, let me in. Open the window,” he pleads, his voice muffled through the window. His warm breath fogs up a small circle, and it makes Eddie’s lips quirk up a little at the fog. But it leaves as fast as it comes. Eddie removes his hand and unlocks his window and pulls it up.

Once the window is up as far as it’ll go, Richie’s quick to climb -more like tumble- through so he can get to Eddie. He ends up on his worn out carpet instead, but still holds his arms out for him. Eddie easily falls into him; curling up in Richie’s lap, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, his face in the crook of his neck. 

Eddie didn’t know he was this much in need of Richie’s touch, but being in his arms now causes his eyes to well up again. Warm tears spill out of his eyes again, and he squeezes his eyes closed as a sob rips out of somewhere deep in his chest. He clings to Richie’s body tighter in fear of Richie leaving him. 

“It’s okay, Eds. I’m here, I’ve got you,” Richie says into his hair as Eddie clung to him. He suddenly notices that Eddie is shaking, and it only makes him pull his small frame closer to him.

Richie doesn’t know how long they stayed on his floor, but he never let him go, even as Eddie cried himself to sleep in his arms. But even as Eddie slept, he didn’t stop whispering soothing words into his ear; kissing his temple, carding his fingers through his hair. It didn’t matter if Eddie was wide awake or deep in sleep like in a coma. Eddie needed him; needed to know that Richie was there for him and wouldn’t dare leave him. 

But it gets to where Richie’s legs begin to feel numb, though. So he carefully gets up, supporting Eddie in his arms so he won’t wake up, and carries him to his bed to lay him down. Before Richie had the chance to get in beside him, Eddie makes a wounded sound in his sleep at the sudden loss of body heat. _“No,”_ he whimpers out, eyes still closed and his face twisted in an unconscious frown. And Richie was quick to slide in beside him to pull Eddie close to his chest. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he says softly when Eddie molds himself into his side.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispers, his words slurred from sleep. It breaks his heart that Eddie, even in his sleep, thinks that he would actually do that to him. But at the same time, Richie can see how he _would_. Hell, he didn’t even know that his best friend, the person he’s been connected to the hip with since pre-school, was in pain. 

His guilt began to burn through his body, and it’s searing his skin and insides while at it.

Richie had never seen him like this before. He had never seen Eddie so....broken. It broke his heart and he began to wonder how long this had been going on without anyone noticing. Without _him_ noticing. He should have read through the lines, paid more attention to the self-depreciation that spilled out of Eddie’s sweet mouth. He shouldn’t have ignored the dark circles around his doe eyes, and how sometimes they looked rubbed raw.

He just should’ve known; he should have seen it sooner. 

He later falls asleep admiring his soft features and freckles that connect like constellations. He’s not sure how long he slept, but he slowly wakes to soft touches lazily drawing shapes where his heart is over his shirt. He shifts a bit and the soft touches that were giving him fluttering butterflies come to a stop. “Why’d you stop,” Richie mumbles as he rubs Eddies back. Looking down, he sees Eddie’s already looking up at him through his lashes. But they’re tired with dark circles from exhaustion. 

Eddie looks down and goes back to drawing the feathery light shapes on his chest again as a distraction. “I don’t-” Eddie clears his throat when it comes out hoarse. “I- when did you get here?” He sounds so fragile, and it’s the total opposite of the loudmouth, firecracker, quick whip he’s so used to hearing. “How long has it been?” 

Richie turns to look at the clock behind him on Eddie’s nightstand, and he feels Eddie’s fingers twitch to grab the material of his shirt. “It’s been about three and half hours,” he says, bringing Eddie back to him and rubbing his back. 

Eddie lets out a shaky breath before wheezing out a strangled, “Fuck.” It makes Richie look down at him and he notices that Eddie's eyes are squeezed shut. Eyebrows stitched together in with a thread of what looks like guilt, which is the last thing Richie ever wants him to feel. “Richie I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had- you can leave if you want. Y-you _should_ leave, god, I’m so sorry.” 

On the surface, Eddie’s words said “go,” but the hold he has on the front of Richie’s t-shirt had clenched tighter. 

Richie knows he could leave. He knows that he can climb out of Eddie’s childhood bedroom and bike back over to the warmth of his own. He can pretend that none of this happened; that he didn’t find Eddie in a million pieces and can go back to being the oblivious piece of shit he honestly feels at the moment. 

But he can’t. He doesn’t want to leave his best friend like this.

His best friend that he’s been in love with since like, ever.

Richie loves him in a way that he doesn’t think he’s ever loved anyone before. Between the years of bickering and teasing, there were summer days spent squeezed in a hammock together -stinky socked feet and all- while reading comic books and finding reasons to touch. 

There were sneaking looks across the library table to Eddie when studying just to find the big bourbon pools he calls eyes already staring right back at him. Eddie’ll look back down to his computer as the tips of his ears down to his cheeks flush the prettiest shade of rose. 

Unofficial ice cream dates and admiring the way his freckles that connect like constellations during golden hour of the day.

The little whispers and giggles they share in the space between them when cramped in one of their twin-sized beds, and the way his heart soars when Eddie falls asleep tucked safely into his side. 

The way his body instantly grows goosebumps and feels the butterflies in his belly go crazy whenever Eddie grabs his hand because of a jump scare in a movie. Well, when he grabs Richie’s hand in general since they hold hands all the time. 

Between all of that and tons more, he’s fallen in love with this adorable, beautiful, little gremlin that could easily kick his ass if he wanted to. And Richie would probably let him. Except he knows Eddie would never do that; it’s _Eddie._

But sometimes, when he catches the way Eddie looks at him, he finds himself wondering if it’s not all one-sided. 

Eddie has always been clingy when it came to Richie, even when they would argue. He still remembers when Eddie squeezed his scrawny ass into the hammock with him because he didn’t respect the _ten minutes each_ rule. But when the flailing of scrawny limbs and bickering stopped, their legs ended up on top of each other like they usually do, fitting like a puzzle. He remembers how the rays of sunshine that bled through the wood of the clubhouse made Eddie look like he was glowing. And when his eyes flicked up to look at him, the sun made his eyes look like beautiful honey brown kaleidoscopes. 

This flashes into his mind as he looks into Eddie’s eyes now, cradling his head in his hands. Except that the frantic eyes he’s looking into right now look foreign to him; unrecognizable. They’re pooling with unshed tears, and if he looks deep enough in them, he can feel the sharp edges of Eddie’s cracked heart scratching him. 

“Eddie, you gotta talk to me. Please talk to me, what‘s wrong?” Richie’s voice cracks with desperation. 

Eddie tries to sputter out a response, tries to form a sentence. But none of it makes sense, just like this _whole situation._ He just needs Eddie to calm down and he’s starting to get flustered himself because he doesn't know what the fuck to do. He has _no_ idea, but then Richie does something that even surprises himself.

He kisses Eddie. 

It only lasts for a couple of seconds. And when he pulls back, another tear falls from Eddie’s wide eyes. But he’s stopped trying to form words and he’s only letting out soft little pants that would be cute in any other moment. 

Richie’s starting to get nervous, an apology already on the tip of his tongue when Eddie closes the gap between them again and seals his lips over his. Eddie’s hand goes to slide up the hair in the nape of Richie’s neck and pulls him closer. And Richie goes easily since apparently his last few brain cells decided to die off in two seconds.

Richie can still feel the tears that slide through Eddie’s long lashes roll down his flushed cheeks, so he takes the pads of his thumbs to brush them away. That only makes Eddie whimper into his mouth. 

They pull away briefly, since air is a thing apparently, and surge back in at a different angle. Eddie rolls onto his back, pulling Richie on top of him. Eddie sighs out the sweetest little, “Richie,” against his lips and he’s suddenly weak. Eddie just does that to him.

Richie wants more. He wants more of Eddie, to be specific. But not when Eddie’s so vulnerable. He feels Eddie begin to nip at his pulse point, his trembling fingers weaved through his curls. Richie has to force himself to pull away, ignoring all of his nerves protesting to stay.

“E-Eddie, we can’t.”

“Why?” Eddie mumbles against another part of Richie’s neck, letting out soft little sighs, which isn’t really making this easy.

Richie pulls back completely to sit back on his knees. Even with Eddie making cute little grabby hands for him to come back and pouts. He fucking _pouts._

“Eddie, I’m serious. Not like this. Not without talking first. Fuck I-.” Richie heavily sighs and runs a nervous hand through his own curls. “Y-you were in pieces when I climbed through your window tonight. I’ve never seen you like this before; you’ve never _talked_ to me about any of this and I feel guilty that I didn’t see it myself.” He takes a shuddering breath as Eddie sits up, too. Pretzeling his legs like a kid and wilts like a flower; he suddenly looks so small. 

“I’ve wanted you for a long time. A-And not just like,” he waves a finger back and forth between them. “This. I love you, Eddie. Like- ‘I want to hold you and kiss you and be with you...your boyfriend.’ I don’t know if that’s what you want, but I love you enough to at least wait until you’re not so vulnerable. Because I love you. I _love_ you so much.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so desperate, but he suddenly feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His chest feels light and airy even with his nerves going haywire. It’s all out there, what he’s been holding inside him since he was thirteen when Eddie had first kissed his cheek after walking him home. That was when he first realized that his scary crush wasn’t just a scary crush. 

Eddie’s silent, tired eyes boring into his own. His face flushed, his lips swollen red, and his hair sticking every which way, yet still so beautiful. His heart aches. Eddie looks down and sniffs, fiddling with a loose thread on the ratty sleeve of his - _Richie’s,_ he’s just realizing- lavender Queen sweatshirt. “I know, Richie.” 

Richie’s adam's apple dryly bobs in his throat as his heart stutters in his chest. 

“I know, because I love you, too. In like- the gross ooey-gooey way. I’ve tried to push it away because I didn’t think you’d feel the same...but I can’t. Which is why you didn’t know....about this; me. I never wanted you to see me like this.” Eddie’s voice starts to shake in a way that makes Richie want to scoop him up and take him to a place that’s safe. A place only for them. “I’m a fucking _mess,_ Richie, and you weren’t supposed to see this part of me.” 

Eddie looks up at him, his eyes sad. But he also sees his eyes glazed over with something else, like love beginning to outweigh the sadness that swirls behind them. “You don’t know how much you mean to me, Richie. I want you, all of you. But do you want me? This side of me along with the Eddie you’re so used to being around? I can’t be who you want me to be. And please don’t feel _guilty_ for something I didn’t allow you to see. That’s not your job,” he practically begs. 

Eddie didn’t think this would ever think this would happen. He honestly can’t keep up, it’s all coming so fast and it’s only been like five minutes. He wants to say so much more, but words can’t truly describe what he feels for the boy in front of him. The boy with the broken glasses and that wicked, crooked smile he adores so much. The boy with the many voices coming out his big mouth that won’t ever shut up and inevitably gets him into trouble. The boy who was there for him when he first found out about his bullshit placeboes and his manipulative mother.

He’s been there for everything since they were kids with scraped knees on the playground. And at some point between the years, he found himself falling for the dumbass who puts ketchup in his macaroni and cheese like a weirdo. 

_“What the_ fuck _are you doing?” Eddie grimaces._

_“What? It’s good, you should try it. It gives it a good kick.” Richie winks._

_Eddie tries ignoring it by deflecting. “Shit no, I don’t hate myself that much.”_

_“Your loss,” Richie shrugs before taking a big bite and cheekily smiles at him._

_Eddie pushes at his shoulder. “You’re disgusting, Richie,” even though he’s giggling._

_“Why do I like you?”_ Eddie had thought to himself. 

Eddie is snapped out of his dazed memory when Richie shuffles beside him and lays down with his arms open. When Eddie turns his head to look at him, Richie motions over with his head. And to add a little levity, because God knows they need it, he quirks his lips up in a tiny smile with an air kiss. “C’mere, spaghetti.” Richie’s heart kinda soars when Eddie lets out a breathless sigh and smiles for the first time all night. It’s small, and it’s barely noticeable. But it’s there and that’s all that matters when he lays down, too. Tucking himself in his side and swings his leg over his waist as Richie wraps his arms around him, pulling Eddie closer. 

“I want all of you; I want to be with you. Because if you love someone, never ever let them go. And what a coincidence; I just so happen to love you.” 

He feels Eddie huffs out a quiet laugh from where his face is hiding in his shoulder. “Stop quoting Stan. He was high when he said that, Richie.”

“Oh please; _high_ Stan is a _wise_ Stan and you know it.” He feels, and even better, _hears_ Eddie giggle‘s this time, louder than the one before, and it’s probably the sweetest sound he’s ever heard; especially now. He wants to hear it again. Forever, if possible.

“Hey, look at me,” Richie says softly, and he smiles when Eddie peaks his face out of Richie’s shoulder just enough to shyly -but playfully- open one eye. He closes it again -a tiny smile threatening to come out of hiding- when he sees Richie looking at him. “C’mon, let me see you, you’re so pretty,” he says teasingly even though it’s not a lie. How could he? Have you _seen_ Eddie Spaghetti Kasprak? He’s so beautiful; ten out of ten, would recommend except too bad you can’t have him. He’s taken.

“Shut up,” Eddie groans out, muffled. But he still takes his face out of hiding and looks up at Richie, flushed freckles, Bambi eyes and all. 

“I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me. But you can’t get rid of me that easily so you can go ahead and get that out of your pretty little head, Spaghetti ma-” Richie doesn’t have a chance to finish what he was saying. Not when Eddie brings his hand up to cradle his cheek and kisses him. It’s sweet, not like the ones from earlier that were needy and salty with tears. He goes to kiss him back, but Eddie pulls away. “You’re a tease,” he accuses. But it’s ruined by the smile that probably won’t leave his face until he’s dead. 

Richie decides he doesn’t really mind.

“A tease that’s yours,” Eddie says almost breathless, eyes soft and dreamy as he looks at him as if he hung the bright stars in the night sky. Richie presses their foreheads together as he chokes out a small laugh of disbelief. 

“I love you.” 

Eddie playfully bumps their noses together and sighs. “I love you, too.”

They fall asleep like that; safe in each other's arms and it’s probably the best sleep Eddie’s had in a while. Richie has to leave early in the morning, not wanting to chance Sonia catching them together in Eddie’s bed. Eddie doesn’t want him to leave; he never does whenever Richie had stayed over in the past. But this time he actually says so, and Richie reminds him that he'd see him later at the quarry with the others. He loves the other Losers, but Eddie just wants to be with him. Sue him, he doesn’t care.

Richie leaned down to kiss him on the forehead and then his lips and then says the words that Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing. Richie whispers, “I love you, spaghetti.”

Eddie sighs, groggy from sleep but happy. “I love you too, asshole.” 

Richie shook his head with a laugh as he walked over to Eddie’s window to climb out. “Forever the comedian.” Then he winks, making chills run all over Eddie’s body. “See ya, cutie,” and then he’s gone, leaving Eddie a little dizzy with affection and on cloud 9. 

Eddie sighs and turns to lay on his back, his eyes meeting the glow in the dark stars that have lived on his ceiling since he was a little boy. He's like that for what feels like hours even though it's only been three minutes. And before he knows it, a smile slowly pulls its way onto his face accompanied by warm cheeks, and soon uncontrollable giggles bubble out of his body. He feels tears begin to spill out of his eyes where they're squeezed shut when he laughs harder and covers his face with both hands. He for some reason can't stop, and the crazy part about it is that it's not out of sadness- but out of pure, beautiful disbelief. 

And for the first time in what feels like forever, as his giggles subside but leaving his giddy smile, and his mind replaying the beautiful moments of his night, Eddie feels something lift in his heart. Something light and airy that he thinks he could get used to.

He feels _hope._

  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come follow and chat with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/flowerpotz01) ,thanks :)


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